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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823774">Rewrite The Rulebook</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfgrunge/pseuds/Elfgrunge'>Elfgrunge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Powers, Aro-Spec Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Aro-spec Martin Blackwood, But he doesn't really care for gender, Canon Asexual Character, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Polish Martin Blackwood, Rating might go up to T for Mild Discussions Of Sex and how Jon is Really Not Into It, Sex-Averse Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, The Magnus Archives Big Bang 2020, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, except I take the hammer.. and fix the fake dating au.. with communication and consent, yes this is the fic that had to change it's name because of one direction porn confusion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:40:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823774</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfgrunge/pseuds/Elfgrunge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Right, okay… So I’m going home for the long weekend. It’s mum’s sixtieth and she’s having a whole big family party. Problem is, I… Well I told her I was bringing a date. And now Tim can’t come, so yeah, fair amount of stressed about it.” </p><p>Jon paused, considering the information. And then, "Why was Tim going?" </p><p>"Well he was going because I haven't got a date, have I?" </p><p>"Then why even say you had one?" </p><p>"Panic! Bloody panic! I've been out since I was fifteen and never once actually brought someone home. I think I just wanted to seem like I had my life together, y’know? Mainly I just... I think I just wanted someone to be there with me, so I wasn't just alone with her the entire time. A bit of comfort.” There was pause as Martin let out a dramatic sigh, seemingly relieved to ramble out his thoughts. </p><p>"... I could go with you. If you want."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Asexual Spectrum Sex-Averse Main Characters, Repulsed/Averse Ace Jon Archivist, TMA Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rewrite The Rulebook</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>“Martin, I’m so sorry but Danny - He’s an impulsive guy, he didn’t even ask me before he booked the tickets. If I had any choice in the matter I’d have scheduled around it but I can’t just not go, he spent all that money-”</p><p>“It’s fine, Tim, I get it. These things happen, don’t worry about it.” </p><p>“I’ll make it up to you, I<em> promise. </em>”</p><p>“You were doing me a favour in the first place, there’s nothing to apologise for.”</p><p>“Don’t be a martyr, Martin. It was shitty of me to drop out on you last minute, and I’m sorry. I’ll buy you lunch some time, yeah?”</p><p>“Sure.” </p><p>It was nine thirty on a Monday and Jonathan Sims was trying to figure out why his office, job requirements considered, didn’t have better sound proofing. Really, if he was to record statements all day, he shouldn’t be able to hear his assistants outside. </p><p>He could hear what was probably Tim receding further into the archives, back to his desk most likely. Jon was getting rather good at telling footsteps apart, these days. Sasha walked quickly, in relatively short strides despite her height, and usually wore some sort of flat pumps. Tim walked at an unhurried, confident pace, heavy footfalls only exaggerated by whatever wedged ankle boots he’d chosen that day. Martin was the easiest of all to tell apart. He tred incredibly lightly for someone of his stature, but rubber soles tended to create a squeak if he was dragging his feet against the old hardwood floor.  </p><p>A sound that he couldn’t currently hear. Which meant Martin was still standing outside his door. Which meant that, following the routine of every day for the last year and a half, he had about five, four, three, two-</p><p>There was a quick double knock on the door, before Martin pushed it open and made his way into the room. He’d only recently stopped waiting for Jon’s reply before entering, after his own insistence that ‘<em> It’s fine, Martin, you’re in at the same time every day, I just expect it at this point </em>’. Today he seemed more nervous than usual, though, free hand running through the tangles of his curls in a way Jon had come to learn meant he was anxious. </p><p>“Everything alright, Martin?” </p><p>“What? Oh, yes, fine, fine. Brought tea, here you go,” he said, setting a cup down on the table, and using the now de-tangled hand to wave dismissively. </p><p>“Forgive my saying, but you don’t… Seem? Particularly alright? I hope I’m not overstepping, but is there anything I can do?” He hesitated for a moment, before adding “I heard you speaking to Tim. Has there been any uh… Workplace disputes? That I should be made aware of? I am <em> technically </em>your boss, so I feel like-” </p><p>Thankfully, that was the point at which Martin decided to cut him off. “No, no nothing is wrong with Tim, it’s not Tim’s fault-”</p><p>“But something <em> is </em>the matter?” </p><p>“I-”. Martin looked conflicted, before sighing, and letting his shoulders slump, deflated. “Yes Jon, I am stressed. Your powers of deductive reasoning astound me.” </p><p>Jon took a moment to feel mildly embarrassed after the deserved ribbing. It was sometimes hard to draw a line between where concern ended and pure curiosity started, even to himself. He felt like this might have been one of the times it tilted a little too far into where he was not wanted. “I’m sorry, that was too much. It’s none of my business if you don’t want to share.”</p><p>Martin paused. “No I’ll… Okay, I’ll tell you if you promise not to make fun of me?” </p><p>Jon hadn’t meant to scoff, but there was something jarring about the contrast between Martin’s serious tone and such a schoolyard plea. “Yes, Martin, of course. You can report me to HR to your heart's content if I do.”</p><p>This managed to get a huff of laughter out of Martin, at least. He settled himself into the chair across from Jon, at the other side of his desk. Jon thought, absently, that he wasn’t posed unlike he was about to give a statement. </p><p>“Right, okay… So I’m going home for the long weekend. It’s mum’s sixtieth and she’s having a whole big family party. Problem is, I… Well I told her I was bringing a date. And now Tim can’t come, so yeah, fair amount of stressed about it.” </p><p>Jon paused, considering the information. And then, "Why was Tim going?" He knew he wasn’t the most observant towards that kind of thing, but he felt like he surely would have noticed if something was going on between the two. Tim had even commented once that Martin specifically was atrocious at hiding his feelings. Besides, he just… Feels like he would have known. </p><p>"Well he was going because I haven't got a date, have I?" </p><p>“Well I didn’t know that, you could have had someone!” Because he definitely could have, even if it wasn’t Tim. Jon was more surprised to find out he didn’t, honestly. He knew, logically, that Martin was handsome, tall with broad shoulders, softly curling hair and freckles, to say nothing of him as a person. And he and Jon weren’t <em> that </em>close, were they? Sure, they went out for lunch together most days, Martin convincing Jon over the year and a half of their knowing each other that he maybe needed to eat at a normal human rate. But Martin could have been hiding a whole family for all Jon knew, it’s not that hard to just exclude details of things. </p><p>"Then why even say you had one?" </p><p>"Panic! Bloody panic! I've been out since I was fifteen and never once actually brought someone home. I think I just wanted to seem like I had my life together, y’know? All my cousins will be there and they all just seem to be handling adulthood so much better than I am so I just wanted to… I don’t know, pretend, a little bit? Have a weekend where I could imagine we were almost on the same level, even if I knew it was a lie. Mainly I just... I think I just wanted someone to be there with me, so I wasn't just alone with her the entire time. A bit of comfort.” There was pause as Martin let out a dramatic sigh, seemingly relieved to ramble out his thoughts. Then, “Sorry. That was a little too much, wasn’t it?”</p><p>“No, don’t apologise, I did ask.” </p><p>Several beats of silence passed before:</p><p>"... I could go with you. If you want."</p><p>Martin’s response came with a huff of laughter. “<em> You what </em>?” </p><p>“Obviously you’re not under any obligation to say yes, but if you <em> need </em>someone to go with you, I would hardly want to leave you in a position like that.” </p><p>And really, Jon must look into soundproofing his office more some time because he could swear he could hear every grating <em> tick </em>of the clock on the wall outside.</p><p>“...<em> Okay! </em>” Martin’s response came out almost strangled. Shit. </p><p>“It’s- It’s fine if you don’t want me there, of course I understand, it’s- It’s not exactly up to office policy, so I’m- I’m sure you’ll have <em> no </em>trouble finding someone else willing to go, I just thought I’d offer-”</p><p>“... I won’t tell if you wont?” </p><p>“Wh- Oh. Really? O-okay.” </p><p>“I would really appreciate that, Jon”, Martin’s smile seemed genuine, if tentative. “As long as you’re sure? I haven’t even told you any details yet… You’re sure you’re not busy this weekend?” </p><p>“I can assure you I’m not… Okay that sounded a lot less pathetic in my head but yes, I’m free.”</p><p>“That’s… Okay. Great, cool, wonderful, I’ll uh, text you the details then?” </p><p>“Please.” </p><p>“Okay, well, I’ll be.. Getting back to work then.” Martin gave another nervous smile, before heading out the door.</p>
<hr/><p><b>Georgie: </b>Okay so, cast your vote now, Little Shop of Horrors, or Beetlejuice? </p><p><b>Jon:</b> … What, like, in a fight?</p><p><b>Georgie</b>: No, halfway to halloween movie night on Sunday, dummy <br/>
<b>Georgie:</b> … But now I kind of want to know your answer to that</p><p><b>Jon</b>: Fuck.</p><p><b>Georgie</b>: What Did You Do </p><p><b>Jon</b>: Double booked. Sorry. Don’t think I can make it. </p><p><b>Georgie</b>: Of course you did</p><p><b>Jon</b> : You and Melanie go on without me<br/>
<b>Jon</b> : But for the record, Little Shop of Horrors<br/>
<b>Jon</b>: In both the ‘movie to watch’ sense and the fight</p><p><b>Georgie</b>: Oh no, left alone with Melanie, whatever will I do </p><p><b>Georgie</b>: What’s so important that it’s drawing you away from the most important annual faux-holiday tradition of the year? </p><p><b>Jon</b>: I’ll be away for the weekend. I told a co-worker I would accompany them to an event. </p><p><b>Georgie</b> : You’ve gone all formal<br/>
<b>Georgie</b> : You used a full stop and everything<br/>
<b>Georgie</b>: You only do that when you’re angry or embarrassed <br/>
<b>Georgie</b>: Which coworker?</p><p><b>Jon</b>: Martin.</p><p><b>Georgie</b>: THE CUTE ONE?? </p><p><b>Jon</b>: Please don’t refer to my colleagues like that. </p><p><b>Georgie</b>: Where are you going? </p><p><b>Jon</b> : …<br/>
<b>Jon</b>: Promise not to be insufferable about it?</p><p><b>Georgie</b>: Can promise no such thing</p><p><b>Jon</b>: It’s his mother’s birthday. He told her he was bringing someone and the person he planned to bring dropped out last minute. So I volunteered. </p><p><b>Georgie</b>: I am so glad I didn’t make that promise <br/>
<b>Georgie</b>: YOU’RE GOING AWAY FOR THE WEEKEND TO BE YOUR CUTE CO-WORKER’S FAKE BOYFRIEND?</p><p><b>Jon</b>: Well when you put it like that it sounds dramatic doesn’t it. I can promise you it’s nothing like that, he just seemed stressed about it and we’re friends, I couldn’t let him get stood up like that </p><p><b>Georgie</b>: Right. I do expect update texts throughout though<br/>
<b>Georgie</b>: Just to make sure you haven’t been murdered by an elderly aunt or something <br/>
<b>Georgie</b>: No other reason </p><p><b>Jon</b>: Truly a bleeding heart, Georgina<br/>
<b>Jon</b>: What would I do without you</p>
<hr/><p>“I think you’ve got to be the only Londoner I know with a car.” </p><p>It’s Saturday afternoon, and the car in question was a black Ford Fiesta that was currently idling on the curb outside Jon’s apartment. Jon had assumed when Martin said they would be travelling to Manchester that they’d be taking the train, or the bus, but when Martin laid out the plans in a text later that evening he revealed that they’d be driving. </p><p>“What? You can’t be serious, loads of people have cars!” Martin said, wrestling to get the boot open. On the third attempt he managed to spring it open, and took Jon’s bags from him and placed them alongside his own. </p><p>“Name one other person you know who lives in central London who owns a car.” </p><p>“Tim!” he declared, slamming the boot with rather more force than needed, quite possibly for dramatic effect. Though on second thoughts, considering the effort it took to get the boot to open in the first place, maybe it was necessary. </p><p>“Tim has a motorbike, that doesn’t count,” Jon said, checking for traffic before darting round to open the passenger door. The road wasn’t particularly busy, but instincts drilled into him by an over cautious grandmother had never quite left him, and he didn’t like standing on the road for any more time than necessary. He slid into the seat, closing the door behind him. </p><p>Martin opened the other door and got into the driver’s seat. “Does too. Besides, I wont have you slandering Cordelia’s good name when she’s so kindly ferrying us about.” </p><p>“<em>The car’s name is Cordelia? </em>”</p><p>“Yes! And what of it?” </p><p>“<em>You named your car </em>?” </p><p>“I was eighteen, okay? I got it for five hundred quid off my neighbour, she was old and fractured her hip and couldn’t drive anymore.”</p><p>“So what, you named the car after her?” Jon asked, only half joking, as he fiddled with the seatbelt. The car really was pretty old, the paint on the outside more than slightly faded, but it seemed in good enough condition. The cheap plastic of the interior smelt like it had been drenched in vanilla quite some time ago, probably from the tired looking air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. </p><p>The mirror that Martin now, in an almost comical stereotype, took the time to adjust before pulling away from the curb. “No, no, it just seemed funny at the time? Boxy, ugly car like this, give it a superfluously fancy name.” </p><p>Jon gave a hum of agreement. “Suppose so.” </p><p>“And to your earlier point… Yeah, I suppose I don’t really use her much. Just keeping her in the parking garage down in the basement is handy though, makes it easier to get back up north than taking the train. Faster, too. Saves like two hours. Again, really, she’s doing you a favour, two less hours to spend on a cramped train.” </p><p>“Well, I appreciate it,” Jon said, giving the dashboard a gentle pat. “Renting the parking must be pricey, though.” </p><p>“Ah, yeah, that.” </p><p>Martin kept his eyes trained on the road ahead, making a sharp turn down a side street in an attempt to avoid joining the main road, and getting blocked in by traffic. “Yeah that hasn’t actually been a problem?” His voice tapered up at the end, and Jon narrowed his eyes. </p><p>“Why do you sound guilty?” </p><p>“What? </p><p>“Your voice did the thing it does when you’re lying, or hiding something.” </p><p>“What? I’ll have you know I’m an <em> excellent </em> liar.”</p><p>“Not to me,” Jon stated. He said it with enough conviction that it took him a few moments afterwards to feel self conscious about the implication that Martin would find it harder to deceive him than others. He quickly tried to brush it off by pushing on. “So what are you hiding?”</p><p>Martin opened his mouth a few times before answering properly. “So my landlord gave me a key to the basement?” </p><p>Jon gave a hum to show he was following.</p><p>“Because I’m a nice young man, you know? I have a respectable job, and I pay the rent on time, and I don’t have girls over at all hours, which are all true things but I feel like the last one is kind of a cop out.”</p><p>Jon laughed at that. “I couldn’t <em> possibly </em>imagine why.” </p><p>“Shush, you, I’m regaling you with my tales of minor crime.”</p><p>“So you admit-”</p><p>“Just listen to the story! So my landlord is away at her holiday home like… eleven months of the year, some villa in Greece or Turkey or something. So she gives me the key so I can go fix the fuse box if the power ever goes out.” </p><p>“Do you know how to fix a fuse box?”</p><p>“Absolutely no clue, but that’s a bridge we’ll cross when we come to it. Anyway, I figured if she’s got me doing unpaid labour I can at least keep my car down there.”</p><p>Jon felt a wry smile spreading across his face. “Can’t fault you for that.” </p>
<hr/><p>Two hours into the drive they pull over at the side of the road to park outside a little cafe in a town just on the outskirts of Birmingham. </p><p>Jon was midway to opening the door and getting out of the car when he noticed Martin hadn’t made a move to exit the vehicle. He was drumming his fingers along the steering wheel awkwardly, and staring out the windshield again, in a way that made Jon feel like he was pointedly not making eye contact. </p><p>“Are you okay?” Jon asked, letting his hand rest on the door handle, “If you’re worried about time we can keep going, I’m honestly not that hungry.” </p><p>“Oh, no, we have plenty of time, and honestly I’m starved,” Martin said, eyes flicking between Jon and the back of the car parked in front of them. “It’s- Okay, never mind, actually-” he said, cutting himself by hastily moving to open the door. He got it halfway open by the time Jon responded. </p><p>“No, see, you can’t do that. You can’t imply something and then not tell me what it is, that’s just cruelty.” </p><p>“It’s-” Martin pulled the door closed again, shutting out the sounds of small town traffic that had escaped into the safety of the car in the few seconds it was open, “Look. I just think…” He looked away from Jon, who was raising his eyebrows as a prompt to continue, “We obviously need some kind of practise at this, before we see mum.” </p><p>“At getting lunch? Martin we’ve got lunch together countless times, I think we’re getting rather good at it by now. You put ground pepper on your fried eggs, and you don’t like avocados, and even if you did you think they’re far too expensive for what they are, and you prefer-” </p><p>“Not what I meant,” Martin said, half a sigh. “I mean the whole… boyfriend, thing.” </p><p>Somehow, in the two hours they’d been in the car, the reason that Jon was also in that car alongside Martin had managed to slip his mind. The thought had obviously taken this escape as an excuse to call for backup and come back with it’s friends for revenge, and was currently pummeling his prefrontal cortex to pieces. </p><p>“Oh! Right, yes, that. What are you suggesting, some sort of… Trial run?”</p><p>“Well… Yeah, pretty much? Is that- Is that okay?” </p><p>“I don’t see why not. Suppose it’s what we’ll be doing for the rest of the weekend.”</p><p>“Right.” Despite them both coming to an agreement, the nervous look didn’t shift from Martin’s face. “Do you- Should we set up, uh, boundaries?” </p><p>Unlike the previous thought’s decency to not only come back a second time but to visit in the first place, the idea hadn’t even deemed to strike Jon that to imitate dating, they would actually have to act in a way that was different than how they acted as friends.</p><p>“Ah. Right, yes that’s… That’s probably best.” </p><p>There proceeded to be a long silence between them, neither quite sure how to continue.</p><p>“... I think this is the point at which I have to admit I haven’t exactly been in a lot of relationships,” Jon said, and now suddenly he found himself as the one staring holes into the license plate of the car in front of them. He absent mindedly wondered if the driver would have to get the little european union flag printed in the corner repainted come brexit. </p><p>This produced a short, soft laugh from Martin and Jon felt his shoulders instinctively raise defensively. Martin’s eyes had been crinkled from the laughter, and when he opened them again he clearly took in Jon’s change in posture, and his face fell. </p><p>“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. I just found it funny because, well, I don’t exactly either? I mean, there’s a reason I’m bringing a ‘fake’ boyfriend as opposed to a ‘real’ one. So we’re just… Two people who really don’t know what we’re doing. I suppose ‘fake it til you make it’ has worked pretty well for me in life so far though, huh?” </p><p>Jon let out a snort of laughter in response, and let his shoulders fall. He’d almost forgotten about Martin’s forged CV, something that meant he really should have fired the man upon finding out, but with more years experience at the institute than even Sasha, and more than Jon and Tim combined, he felt it a little unfair. What he lacked in classical training he more than made up for in on the job experience. And besides, it’s not like Jon was exactly qualified for his position either. He was well aware that he wouldn’t know a library science degree if it came in to give a statement. And now he was getting side tracked. </p><p>“It would seem so, yes,” he replied. “I… Hm,” he trailed off, realising with a slow intake of breath that now he would actually have to address the question at hand. He was saved by Martin taking the blow of broaching the subject for him. </p><p>“Well, just, first off, I’m not going to be expecting you to kiss me, or, or anything. Just thought I’d clarify that first in case you were- were worried about that, or something. That would be entirely inappropriate and, quite frankly, a little creepy, so… Don’t worry about that.”</p><p>Jon hadn’t even thought about that. He was glad he hadn’t, because the idea would have possibly sent him into a full blown panic. He was realising he hadn’t quite taken into account the full scope of what he had signed up to. But Martin had said he specifically wouldn’t ask that of him so… That was good, then. Nothing to worry about. </p><p>Jon nodded. “Right, yes, that’s… Good. Good. Okay. I ah… I’m okay with holding hands? That is, if you are.”</p><p>“That seems fine,” Martin said, suddenly very interested in the quality of his own fingernails, “Can I- Is, is pet names too much?”</p><p>Jon mouthed the words back to himself, contemplating it. “... No, that should be okay, but… What ones?”</p><p>Over the last few minutes Martin’s face had been slowly but surely been flushing with colour, and that was the line that seemed to tip him over to a boiling point. Jon thought, idly, that if he reached over and put his hand to Martin’s forehead it would come away warm enough to fry an egg. </p><p>“What- What ones... I hadn’t really put a lot of thought into it.” </p><p>“I’m putting a rule against ‘baby’,” Jon said, feeling his lip curl at the word “I’ve never seen the appeal to that one. It’s just… Odd.”</p><p>“Oh, uh, hard agree,” Martin said, nodding slightly. “Is- Would ‘honey’ be okay?” </p><p>“I suppose” Jon replied. There followed several seconds of awkward silence between them, before Jon spoke again. “We’re being quite ridiculous about this aren’t we?”</p><p>“Hey, you’re being as awkward as I am!” Martin retorted, and Jon had to stifle a laugh. </p><p>“No, no I meant… Do people actually care about that sort of thing?” </p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>“Say you’re out for dinner with friends, and one of them says they’ve brought their partner. If they’re not all over each other are you suddenly going to accuse them of not actually dating?” </p><p>Martin made a spluttering noise. “Well, no, ‘course not.” </p><p>“And would your family have reason to believe that you had, for some inexplicable reason, decided to bring your co-worker as a fake date?” </p><p>“Well… No? Because that’s… An entirely ridiculous thing to have done… Huh.” </p><p>“You see what I mean?” Jon said, raising an eyebrow. “I think we’ll be fine. Now come on,” he opened the car door, “Or we’ll actually be late.” </p>
<hr/><p><strong>Georgie:</strong> Checking you’re not lost in the wilderness of rural England somewhere </p><p><strong>Jon:</strong> I don’t think Birmingham is quite that bad </p><p><strong>Georgie:</strong> /Ha ha/<br/>
<strong>Georgie:</strong> All okay then?</p><p><strong>Jon:</strong> Back on the road now, just stopped for lunch </p><p><strong>Georgie:</strong> Oh? Anything nice?</p><p><strong>Jon:</strong> The world’s most middle of the road BLT<br/>
<strong>Jon:</strong> They were really trying to fulfill that three star quality rating in the window </p><p><strong>Georgie:</strong> How’s Martin? </p><p><strong>Jon:</strong> Fine?</p><p><strong>Georgie:</strong> You know what I’m asking<br/>
<strong>Georgie:</strong> /How’s Martin?/ </p><p><strong>Jon:</strong> ...He wanted to pretend to be more… Couple-y? But we talked through it and realised that was wholly unnecessary </p><p><strong>Georgie:</strong> Jon<br/>
<strong>Georgie</strong>: Jon define ‘couple-y’</p><p><strong>Jon:</strong> Like, handholding? </p><p><strong>Georgie:</strong> And you turned down the opportunity to hold hands with a cute boy /why/? </p><p><strong>Jon:</strong> Because it would be creepy!<br/>
<strong>Jon:</strong> And besides, there was no reason for it. Couples having to act romantically at all times to be considered valid is anormative nonsense, and even then it’s just not needed </p><p><strong>Georgie:</strong> … But you would’ve liked to though? </p><p><strong>Jon:</strong> I won’t be discussing this. </p><p><strong>Georgie:</strong> Have a good weekend </p><p><strong>Jon:</strong> You’re my least favourite friend. And that list includes Melanie.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to my wonderful beta reader Cai, @bisexualoftheblade on tumblr who is also responsible for the header art! </p><p>As well as a fake-text version of Jon and Georgie's first conversation - https://bisexualoftheblade.tumblr.com/post/636329617728454656/here-are-some-texts-from-radiosandrecordingss<br/>And a moodboard! -https://bisexualoftheblade.tumblr.com/post/636329594929201152/here-is-one-of-my-pieces-for<br/>Ren @dont-taunt-the-octopus made a playlist! https://dont-taunt-the-octopus.tumblr.com/post/636330555817984000/httpsopenspotifycomplaylist7ixbx08tz3nwbmyyg</p><p>And Marius @iamthehelperdog did some gorgeous art of a scene in a later chapter! https://iamthehelperdog.tumblr.com/post/636331266117107712/rewrite-the-rulebook-chapter-1-elfgrunge-the</p><p>I'm radiosandrecordings on tumblr<br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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